The Film Did Not Go 'Round
by QueenOfQuiet17
Summary: He knew that it would happen like this. But he was never prepared for it. Will/Karen, inspired by the Nada Surf song of the same name. Now complete.
1. The Shutter Clicked, But

**NOTE:** Lyrics to the song "The Film Did Not Go 'Round" by Nada Surf are used in this chapter and are in italics. I do not own them.

October 31st 2002

_The shutter clicked, but the film did not go 'round  
The shutter clicked, but the film did not go 'round  
I touch these strings, but cannot touch the sound_

On some level, I expected everything that happened.

I knew that you would come to me, and I knew I wouldn't mind it. I knew that you would say all the things you thought I wanted to hear. I knew that I would believe you. And I knew that once you had the chance, you would go back to him, to restore as much normalcy to your life as you possibly could. I wasn't able to give you much, but I gave you all I had. I knew that it wouldn't be enough for you to stay. I never blamed you for any of it.

That night, when you realized that your secure foundation with him was beginning to crumble, I saw you look at me in a different light. We've had our disagreements in the past, our warring words, but something softened in you, and I became someone else. Someone you could depend on, someone who would be able to comfort you. Someone who was actually here, while he was forced to go away. I kept telling myself that it was just the situation, that in the morning, after you've had a chance to rest, our dynamic would go back to normal and we wouldn't look back. But I knew that it wouldn't go like that.

We were playing with fire. You knew that. It's why we never wanted any concrete evidence of our actions. It was like the shutter clicking on a camera, but nothing coming from it; we knew it was happening, we knew what we were doing, but we had no proof to go by. Even if we did have proof, no one would have believed us if we told them. In their mind, there was no way Karen Walker and Will Truman would ever be together, let alone be civil to one another. It wasn't the way things went.

But you were always one for defying the norm.

On some level, I expected everything that happened. I knew that you would leave when Stan came back into view. But I never thought that when you were gone, I would feel this empty. I knew we didn't have much time together; only fools who get caught up in those romantic clichés think they have eternity with the one they love. But I knew better than that; I tried to make the most of it. But in doing that, I made it so that once you were gone, you would leave the deepest hole possible in your wake.

_You showed me just how easy love could be  
You showed me just how silly love could be  
But everything you showed me gracefully_

You came to me looking for that romance you were never rewarded with as a teen. You thought you were too mature for all of that in your adolescent age, but as the years went on, you wanted what you never had. You wanted to be so unconditionally in love that nothing else really mattered in your world. I did my best to give that to you, but I truly believe that it was you who gave me that teen-aged romance instead of the other way around.

What I loved most about you was the fact that I could just be standing there, and you would think it was the best thing in the world that you got to see it. I wouldn't have to say anything, but you knew that you were loved. You would hover over me when I first woke up, like an angel who had been given a second chance, your skin caressing mine in an effort to coax me into reality, a sort of non-verbal sweet talk. What you didn't realize was that this wasn't reality. Or maybe you understood and you were only playing oblivious for my benefit. Either way, you made it easy for me to think that what we had was real. You made it easy for me to start becoming one of those cliché-ridden fools. And I was beginning to think that if that happened, I wouldn't mind it.

As long as it meant that I got to spend my days with you.

I remember late at night, when you started making my apartment your home, the whispered conversations we would have about our future. Mainly, you took control of those; you had your own ideas about what reality had in store for us, and you knew that I would go along with anything you proposed. I remember the first night you told me, "Maybe I won't leave when he gets out. Maybe I'll just stay here with you." I closed my eyes when you said that, and I thought I imagined it. You didn't follow that statement up with anything else; you changed the subject mere seconds after, giving me no reaction time, giving me no chance to prepare a decent response. Of course I wanted you to stay here; deep down you knew that. And when you brought it up again the next night, I knew you were looking for confirmation.

"You know I would want nothing more," I said to you.

You giggled and filled me in on your plans: you would let the kids down easy and deal with Stan when he comes back. You would bring your clothes and a few things of personal value here—"I don't need anything else," you told me—and you would be able to start over. You seemed dead set on making this work, and despite all my better judgment, I believed you when you spoke with such conviction.

But he came back. And you left me.

_You'll be waiting by my bed, I know__  
You'll be waiting by my bed, I know  
And your last little words will be, "I love you so"_

Grace dragged me on this festive Halloween expedition with the one she's currently infatuated with; they are currently off on some sort of date he guaranteed her would be romantic. She needed to prove something to him. It only makes me think of you. I never had to prove myself. I never had to show you how far I would go for you; you already knew. It makes me think of the dreams I have of you waiting in my bedroom, coming back to me; some nights you're standing beside it, some nights you're laying on top of the sheets. A few times, you were kneeling beside it, resting your arms on the mattress, almost as if in prayer, even though I know that's something you really don't believe in. But you always wait for me until you crawl in between the sheets. You always wait for me to come close to you so you can bring my ear to your lips, so you can make sure I hear you when you whisper to me that you love me.

I may be stupid for thinking of this; but it's all I have now. The shutter clicked, but the film did not go 'round. I have no pictures, I have no love notes. I have tiny visions of you—your true self, not the one you let Jack and Grace believe is real—that fade a little more each day with wear. I have the memory of our days and nights together, when we truly believed that we could take on anyone who tried to tear us down.

We were proven wrong when Stan came back to you.

I don't see much of you anymore; you'll be in your own little world when I visit Grace at the office. Grace knew about us—she was in the same apartment, there was no way to avoid that—and she knows all that I was willing to tell her. I can tell she senses something off between you and I, but she won't call attention to it. The only bad thing about it is that you won't call attention to it, either.

I can tell you think about what used to be. I can tell that, on some level, you're craving more as much as I have been. But you won't act on it. I want you to act on it, Karen. I'm waiting for the day when you finally decide it's okay to run to me. You're all I want.

I know you see that. It's only a matter of when you will listen to your heart.

I can be patient. I have my dreams to get me through this day, to get me through the journey home. Tonight, I will most likely not see you at my bed. But I can wait for you. I expected everything that happened with us.

But what happened after us, I never saw coming.


	2. The Guard Is Down

October 11th 2001

He didn't believe her at first. She had cried wolf so many times before, gone to great lengths for her own amusement so much so that it got to the point where it became tedious to even take her call. But then the FBI agents came, and it was spreading over local news outlets like an uncontrollable wildfire. And he knew that Karen had nowhere else to turn. "Stan's been arrested." He should have taken her seriously when she said that. But he had to hear it from some nameless, pompous news reporter broadcasting it to the greater part of New York City.

Will went with her to her home while they searched for evidence. He had his eyes on Karen the entire time, watching her reactions, or lack thereof, to these strangers tearing apart her home, tearing apart all she had built with Stan. She stood there like stone, stoic and seemingly calm. That was Karen for you; she could be on the verge of self-destruction on the inside, but she wouldn't let anyone know about it. Will was always intrigued by that, intrigued by her presence in general. He could tell that she was upset, he always could; Karen Walker may be hard on the surface, but when you delve deeper, you must be careful around the fragility. He put an arm around her, slowly, just to let her know that he was there, that he could be depended on. And when he did that, he was shocked.

She didn't flinch.

Once the intruders left—he could tell that that was what Karen thought of them—Will watched as she walked around the living room, taking in the damage. If he looked closely, he could swear that he just saw a tear rolling down her cheek. Karen took a moment to compose herself and turned to face him. "The kids are with their mother right now. I…I don't want to be here," she started, meekly. "I can't sleep here tonight."

There were probably a million different options she could have had. If he were to leave her alone right now, she would most likely be able to find her way. But the look in her eyes made him hate himself for even considering it. He walked over to her, put a hand against the small of her back and started to lead her to the staircase. "Grab some clothes," he told her. "You can stay with me tonight. Grace is probably asleep, so she won't notice anything. You can sleep in my bed, and I'll take the couch."

She looked at him with a skeptical gaze. "You would do that for me?"

"You shouldn't be alone tonight. Not after all of this."

Karen stared at him for a moment, as if she were wary of accepting such a generous offer from him. She would have jumped at the opportunity if it didn't make her look desperate. Will was aware of her vulnerability, she knew that now, but that didn't mean she had to destroy the image she built up entirely in one fell swoop. Slowly, she made her way up to the closet while Will stayed at the bottom of the stairs. She didn't take much—something to sleep in, a couple changes of clothes in case he offered his place for more than an evening—and went back downstairs to meet him.

Will held the front door open for her, and although her back was turned to him, he could hear the faintest "Thank you" escape her lips. He didn't know why she was so reluctant to believe that he would do this for her. Sure, they've had their arguments and flung petty insults in one another's direction, but he hadn't been _that_ horrible to her.

Had he?

The ride to Riverside Drive was silent and felt eternal. Karen was looking out the window, watching the speeding cabs and laughing New Yorkers—how can they be enjoying themselves when everything has been turned upside down? Will was looking at Karen, watching this awkward and slightly unbelievable transformation—he knew she would be affected by this, it was her husband after all, but he never expected her to let it show so much.

Past the front doors, up the elevator, to the apartment. Will turned the light on to brighten the pitch black of the living room; he was sure that Grace was asleep and wouldn't hear anything. He led Karen to his bedroom. "Here you go," he said. "Let me just grab my pajamas, and I'll leave you here to change." He grabbed his clothes and left as she closed the door behind her.

He couldn't put his finger on why—Karen had been in certain predicaments before—but for some reason, all he was concerned about at that moment was making her feel like she wasn't alone in the world. All he wanted to do was to make sure that she would be okay. He didn't understand it, but he wanted to be the one she depended on.

After a few minutes, he poured two glasses of wine; he knew he wouldn't be able to get to sleep right now, and he didn't think he would anytime soon. He grabbed one of them and walked towards his bedroom, knocked on the door softly. She didn't answer. Will was about to turn back when he finally heard a faint "Come in."

When he opened the door, he found her in a silk nightgown, her knees drawn to her chest, pensive. He wondered if she even absorbed the shock yet, or if she was replaying the events in her mind so she would be able to get a better understanding of it all. Will moved closer to the bed and said, "Hi."

Karen simply looked in his direction.

He held the glass of wine out to her. "Thought you might like some."

She took the glass from his hand. "Thank you. You didn't have to bring me anything."

"Don't worry about it. Sleep well." Will was at the doorway when he heard her speak.

"Why are you doing this?"

He turned around to face her. "What do you mean?"

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

Will took a seat at the edge of the bed. "Well, for one thing, you're actually letting me," he said, which made her smile, the first one from her he's seen all day, "and for another…I don't know, I wanted to. I just felt like you needed someone to be there for you, and I'm more than happy to be that someone."

"I thought you hated me," she said. God, maybe he _had_ been that horrible to her.

"Karen, I don't hate you. I say those things, but I never mean them. But that's all we know. That's how we handle each other, and I guess we've never been given an opportunity to change that. Until now, that is. I know what I've said to you is petty and cheap, and if I could take them back, now that I know how that affected you, I would. I truly am sorry."

He stood up and looked at her for a moment. She didn't respond to what he had said; he didn't really expect her to. "If you need to talk," he said, "I'm right out there. I'll probably be up for a little while longer." He walked out and closed the door behind him.

If she had to be honest, there was no one else she'd rather have look after her tonight. She always felt some sort of attraction to him, but she always dismissed it as a fluke, or some kind of admiration and respect. She drew her knees to her chest again as she sipped the wine. She wanted him to come back. She wanted him to keep her company. She wanted him to listen. She stared at the closed door, as if doing this would force him to come back in, losing track of time. But when she realized it wouldn't work without action, she decided to get up. He was sitting on the couch, his back turned towards her. She needed to talk. She needed him.

"This was the final straw with him," she said.

And his head turned.


	3. Change

October 12th 2001

"What did you just say?" Will didn't know that she had made her way out to the living room in the early hours of the morning.

Karen walked over to the couch, set her empty glass down on the coffee table and took a seat next to him. She smelled of gardenias and intense regret. "I said," she started with a sigh, "This was the final straw with him." She looked over at him as he tried to process what she had just said. On some level, he had to have seen it coming. She had even come to him for advice when she was having problems with Stan. But Will didn't seem to understand. She continued. "Look, it's been rocky for the last few years now. He started working more and more; I barely got to see him. The times I did see him were nothing special; if anything, they only magnified what was wrong in our relationship. And now he pulled something as big as this. Come on, tax evasion? Did he really think he was going to pull that off?"

"Karen, if it was this bad for so long, why didn't you just leave when you were talking about it with me?"

"Because I thought I loved him. I thought that's what I wanted. I thought I wanted to believe all of that. But there came a time when I had to take the blinders off and just look around me. I'm not happy, Will. I don't think I love him. I…" her voice began to crack. "I don't know what I want."

She felt his arms wrapping around her, the warmth that radiated off of him. It was comforting. It was what she needed. Karen wanted something to change, was desperate for it. And he seemed so willing to make that happen for her. God, he filled her with hope. In the past few hours—hell, in the past ten minutes—Will was able to give her more than Stan ever had. And she was beginning to think that maybe he was the change she was looking for.

Karen looked up at him with wet eyes, took him in for a moment. Her hands were trembling slightly against his shoulders as she leaned in and felt the contact of his lips with hers. She waited for him to pull away in disgust, but it didn't happen. She grabbed the fabric of his shirt in her fists as she felt his hand slide up her back. This couldn't be right; this was not the way they operated together. This wasn't normal. But then again, what occurred in the last twenty-four hours that could be considered normal?

She pulled away softly, kept her eyes closed. That way, she wouldn't be able to see the negativity on his face if he didn't want this to happen. "Karen," he said softly as she rested her head on his chest, refusing to lock eyes with him. "I think you're confused right now." It didn't sound like a punishment, or a statement. It was more of a guess. "A lot has happened today. I think maybe it's best if you sleep on it. We'll deal with it when you wake up."

Karen nodded and stood up. "I'm sorry," she said. Will watched her as she walked down the hall, waited until he heard the door shut behind her. He put his face in his hands.

"Don't be," he whispered.

* * *

"What the hell are you doing out here?"

The vision of Grace hovering above him became less and less blurry as his eyes opened wider. He sat up as she waved at him and continued getting ready for work. It couldn't have been morning; it seemed like a few minutes ago he was finally able to close his eyes and fall asleep. Karen was nowhere to be seen, Grace was going through her usual morning routine; if he hadn't have woken up on the couch, he would have thought that the past twenty-four hours were just a bad dream.

Grace smiled at him. "Are you going to answer me?"

"Answer what?" he asked as he tried to fully wake up.

"Why are you sleeping on the couch? Rough night?"

Yes. Isn't it obvious? Doesn't this destruction make itself known to everyone? Can't you see it, Grace? No, that's right. You were sleeping. While you were sleeping, Karen fell apart. While you were sleeping, the dynamic of our quiet little lives completely shifted.

"It's a long story," was all he said about it. "Oh, I saw Karen last night. She said that she wouldn't be able to come in to work today, told me to tell you." Lie. Karen never mentioned anything about what she would do the morning after, where she would go. She didn't seem like she would be up for going in to the office and, as soon as Grace left, he would put in a call to his own building telling them he couldn't come in. Surely by now they've heard what happened last night, and if they ask, he'll just play oblivious.

"Oh, okay. Did she tell you why?" He shook his head; it seemed to be a sufficient answer for her. Grace headed towards the door, planted a kiss on Will's cheek as she passed the couch. "Have a good day," she called out as she walked through the doorway. Just wait, Grace. Wait until you step outside. Wait until you pass a newsstand; it's almost guaranteed to be on the front page of just about every newspaper in Manhattan. Then you'll see why she's not coming in to work today.

Will called work before he went into the bathroom to change and freshen up. When he came out, he found Karen standing on the balcony, leaning on the rail and looking down at the earth below. The sun shining brightly down on her almost washed away the heartache that plagued her, and she almost looked like a woman who didn't know what guilt, regret or sadness looked and felt like. He almost didn't want to disturb her, but he knew he had to. "Good morning," he said quietly.

She turned around and gave him a small smile as he moved in closer. "Hi," she said.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Will. You don't need to make small talk with me. I know you want to talk about what happened last night."

"I just felt like I was taking advantage of you. I mean, you had to go through so much last night, and I know you weren't yourself, and I don't blame you for that. Something in me thought it felt right, and I went with it."

She laughed. "Honey, you didn't take advantage of me. I'm the one that kissed you."

"Did you mean what you said last night?"

"Yes. And I meant what I did last night. You didn't pull away."

She bit her lower lip, as if she was uncertain what to do next. Everything they knew had been flipped. Their prior actions had just been deemed invalid by their actions last night. But she was still unsure whether her next move should be what her mind and heart were telling her it should be. She laid everything out on the table last night; at this point, nothing would shock him. Karen pulled Will in and brushed her lips against his. "Wait," he said as he pulled away slightly. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

That giggle; god, it was so intoxicating. "I wouldn't have kissed you again if I thought last night was a mistake." It wasn't a definite yes. But right now, he would take anything as long as it meant that she would stay.

He took her in his arms, felt her smile against his chest. He knew it was wrong. But he didn't care. The only one he would be worried about was Stan, and, although it was horrible to say, he would be nowhere near them for a while. Karen looked up at him with a grin. "Is it okay to spend another night here?"

Will kissed her cheek. "You can stay here as long as you want."


	4. Holding Hands

October 12th 2001

"No, no, no, you've got to be kidding me." Will expected this call, as soon as Grace got a chance to pick up the phone. She would dial the numbers and ask him if he heard about Stan. He had just gotten through explaining everything, from the ordeal from the previous night, up until the point where he invited Karen to stay with them. Well, that wasn't necessarily true; he neglected to inform her about the conversation they had last night, the encounter on the balcony this morning. Once he heard his cell phone ring, he knew immediately that she would be on the other line. He stayed downstairs in Karen's home while she was upstairs collecting some of her belongings to take back to the apartment.

"Grace…" he started.

"No, Karen can't stay with us. Have you seen the way she treats me during the day? Now I have to live with that twenty-four/seven? You know I love her, but really, there's only so much of her I can take. By the way, thanks for telling me about Stan. You know I had to find out about it from the _Post_ this morning?"

"Look, you weren't there last night. You didn't see her while everything was happening. It's hard to explain, but I think she feels safe at the apartment. Grace, she needs someone right now; I just think it makes sense if it's me. She can talk to me, because I was there beside her, watching them completely destroy everything around her. If I back out now, that just shakes things up even more, and I can't do that to her."

"Will, I get that. I do. It just would have been nice to be informed so I could express my opinion about it. I mean, last time I checked, I do live there."

"Didn't want to wake Sleeping Beauty. At least I told you now; would you rather have had me try to hide the fact that she's there?"

Silence.

"There's something deeper than what you laid out for me," she said softly. "I just can't figure it out yet. But there's more to this than you're letting on."

Footsteps coming closer. Karen. "Grace, I have to go. We'll be home soon. Please try not to make a big deal about all of this." Will hung up the phone and stuck it back in his pocket, looked up to see her struggling with a suitcase. "Need help?" he said as he ran up the stairs to meet her halfway. Before she could tell him she was fine, he took the suitcase from her hands; she knew it would have gone that way even if she had a chance to protest.

He took her hand and led her towards the door.

And she looked down at their entwined fingers in confusion and sadness.

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Oh god. What was she thinking?

It wasn't like she planned it; but isn't that the cliché that everyone uses to make it seem okay? Will was the smart one. He was the one to ask her if this is truly what she wanted right now. _I wouldn't have kissed you again if I thought last night was a mistake_. In her defense, she didn't give him a straight-out "yes." He shouldn't have really taken it as a "yes." It was his fault for believing what he wanted to believe.

She would have been able to tell herself this without any problem if she hadn't been the one to initiate.

Everything was true; she meant what she said about Stan. But she never expected to betray him. And if she stopped now, she wouldn't have to. But she wasn't sure if she even wanted to stop. Wait. Stop. Pull away from the moment. Evaluate the situation; it's the least she could do. Give it some time before you jump right in again.

If only she had taken that advice years ago.

Right after her previous marriage had shown the first signs of demise, she had crossed paths with Stan for the first time. And as soon as he showed the slightest bit of interest in her, she threw herself in completely. By the time she found out that Stan was still married, she convinced herself that she would wait as long as it took for him to finally be hers. And looking back now, it scared her that she was actually capable of something like that. It scared her that she was still capable of something like that.

She had a fear of being left alone. Beginning when her father died, and her mother started doing unspeakable things to get by. It was obvious when she ran into the arms of Stan when her last marriage wasn't working. Made painstakingly clear when she stayed with him even though he was married, waited around until he finally put the ring on her finger. It was the reason for her actions last night and this morning; even though she seemed of sound mind, truth be told, she was merely repeating a cycle she told herself countless times before that she had to break.

And she didn't even realize it until he took her hand. This was the house where she played wife to Stanley Walker. This was the place that contained the life they built. And when she felt his fingers begin to weave with hers, she felt as though she were smashing apart everything she had believed to be real. She felt as though she were violating some sort of code, some sort of law. She felt as though she and Stan should switch places.

But he showed a slight interest in her; he seemed like he was willing to keep her company. And that, mixed with the fear, was enough to get her to risk everything.

Will helped her unpack—that's what he said he was doing; in actuality, he did all the unpacking while Karen leaned against the doorframe—and clear out a couple drawers and some closet space in his bedroom so that she would have room to keep her clothes. This man was willing to give up his own bed, to sleep on the couch so she would be comfortable. He kept Grace at bay when Karen knew that she wasn't too thrilled about the latest houseguest. He was so certain that this was the right thing, that what was happening was okay. So why wasn't she able to see what he so clearly could?

Her mother had inadvertently and unknowingly taught her that you couldn't be on your own and survive. Lessons learned from man after man she scammed, the money she earned from doing it. Karen always knew that this wasn't the way to live; she knew that if she had to, she would probably be able to live alone and make a living for herself. But because she never had an example to base everything on, she didn't know what it looked like, and to go off without a precedent scared her.

She watched as Will finished up. She could see herself in his arms. She could see herself happy with him, if it ever came to that. They hadn't talked about what happened this morning at all. Maybe he was beginning to think that they should cool off before they sink any further. Maybe if she kept some sort of distance, she would be able to figure things out and go from there. His voice jerked her back into reality.

"Is this okay?" he said when he was done.

"Yeah, honey. It's perfect. Thank you."

He smiled and walked towards the doorway, planted a kiss on her cheek as he left. She walked into the bedroom and threw herself on the bed. He wanted this; he wanted what she had given him this morning. She wasn't fully expecting that. She was trapped in a sea of confusion, and despite her best efforts, she was beginning to drown.

If only he hadn't held her hand. She would have been fine if she hadn't been made aware that this was merely continuing the cycle.


	5. Everyone's Got To Leave Their Love

**NOTE:** Lyrics from the Nada Surf song "The Film Did Not Go 'Round" are included in italics in this chapter.

October 31st 2002

_Everyone's gotta leave their love sometime  
Everyone's gotta leave their love sometime  
If not now, then at the end of your lifetime_

I thought it was Grace's fault.

I thought it was because of her that you suddenly became distant. I thought it was her presence in the apartment that made you less eager to steal a kiss or to crawl inside my arms. It was the only thing I could think of that would have made you change so drastically from that first morning to mere hours later. Grace wasn't visible when she first arrived; she was sleeping, irrelevant at that moment. But once you caught one glimpse of her, everything changed.

At first, I didn't think anything of it; I knew what you were going through, and I knew you would probably want your space at times. But it went on for a week, and it seemed as though you left me in the dark. When Grace was out one night, I found you sprawled on the couch. The place where it started, the place where it was paused. The place it would inevitably end. I asked you what was wrong. "It's not right," was all you said.

Is it her? I asked. Is she why you haven't been…

"No. Grace has nothing to do with it. It's just that…come on, Will, this was never how it was supposed to work out."

Things are almost never what they're supposed to be, Karen. You, of all people, should know that.

I could see that that struck a chord in you. You seemed defeated, like there was no way out, and that's not how I ever wanted you to feel. You took my hand. "It's not that I don't want this. I'm supposed to be supporting Stan. I'm supposed to be there for him. How can I do that when I'm in the arms of someone else? I know I said that this was the last straw with him, but you have to understand that he's been in my life for so long, I was beginning to forget what anything else looked like."

I never meant for you to feel like this. I'm sorry.

"God, please don't apologize. That's the last thing I want from you." The way your forehead wrinkled made it look as though you had to strategize, as though you had to plan exactly what you were going to say so you couldn't contradict yourself later, or you wouldn't regret anything. "Give me time. Let me figure out how this is done. I don't want to try to give you something I don't have."

I brushed the hair, so soft, away from your face as I told you. Karen, I can wait as long as you need me to. I just want you to be happy with whatever you do.

I left out that at some point, everyone leaves their love. The feelings may be gone, or replaced with something that doesn't seem to work. Someone finds someone else. Or, if nothing else, death separates the two. But normally, that isn't the case. I didn't want to say that; I think on some level you already knew. But if you did, you buried it deep to make your speech stick. And it worked, sometimes.

But I longed for the moments when it didn't.

Usually meant only for me to witness. Usually when others have slipped out of the room. Usually when I least expect it. Maybe it was something in you that decided that today was the day, and you slipped a little gesture in before the other part of you chimed in. Maybe it was only you giving me signs to let me know that you were getting there, but you still were not completely sold on everything I was trying to offer you. The brush of your fingers against my skin. The occasional lingering kiss on my cheek before you retreat to the bedroom. The journey into my arms when you found me entranced by the glow of the television in the otherwise pitch dark of the apartment. These things used to fool me. They made me believe that whatever reservations you had about whatever it was we had done before—and it all happened so fast that even I wasn't too sure of what had been before me; I just knew that I wanted it and I didn't care how long it would take to get it—had disappeared into the air and you wanted to pick up where we left off.

But I wasn't stupid. Eventually, I picked up on the fact that this was merely you acquiring a taste for what it would be like if you loved me. You wanted to compare what I felt like to what he felt like. And, if I had to be honest, although I hated thinking of it that way, I couldn't really blame you. I understood all of the implications, what it would mean to throw your life away, the one you had become so used to, to start all over again. It frightened you; it would frighten anyone. But you knew that I would help in any way I could to make the transition as smooth as possible for you.

At least I thought you knew; maybe that was part of the reason you conducted those little "tests."

I wasn't sure what you were expecting from me. I wasn't sure if I should try harder, if I was even trying at all. I didn't know if I was meeting your expectations, if you had any. I had no idea where I stood with you, and it was maddening, although I tried my hardest not to let that show. One moment, you were against my body, and I could feel the warmth you carried. But in the next, you were as distant with me as you had been even before this whole ordeal. Frustrated by the to and fro. Fearful that you'll find something in me you can't bear to live with and you'd decide to stick it out with Stan. You had only given me a small taste of what it was like to have you by my side, but once I experienced it, it was all I could think about. It was the only thing I wanted. But I knew that it would be a long time until it was even a possibility.

That is, until that Thanksgiving.

You didn't want anyone to go in with you; you felt like you could handle it on your own. But even the most stoic of individuals need someone to depend on, especially when it comes to something like this. Visiting your husband in prison was never high on your list; I couldn't tell whether it was because of the surroundings you would be in, the way we've been interacting, or both. Usually I would go in with you when you wanted to see him; it killed me to hear all the things I hoped you would say to me one day, but I knew you needed me. This time, however, you wanted to go stag. When we finally got home for the day, you didn't seem like yourself. And although you told us some of what happened in there, I wanted to know what it was that transformed you.

I wanted to know what it was that changed your mind and our fate.

Now, I watch in the back seat as Grace and Leo embrace before stepping into the car. This trip had been about them; it was obvious. I think about what I didn't say to you that night, about how everyone eventually leaves the one they love. I wonder when Grace is going to realize it's time to leave him. Or maybe he'll beat her to the punch.

You left Stan for me, whether or not it was known to your husband. Even though I never said those things out loud to you, you heard them somehow and obviously believed it to be true. I just thought that once you left him, you wouldn't leave me. I was going back on my own logic, thinking that it only worked to my advantage and then it would be deemed inaccurate.

And I was left in the cold. It's the way things go sometimes, but I never thought it would happen to me.

I believed you when you told me you would stay. But maybe you were only saying that because you knew I would believe anything you said. Maybe you knew going into this that it would end eventually. Maybe all the things you said, did, all the time you spent with me was merely you trying to make the most of it before Stan was released. Whatever it was, I cherished it. I lingered whenever we kissed, savored the taste of you on my lips. I made sure you didn't go a day without knowing that I loved you.

I was hopeful when you first moved in.

It was last Thanksgiving when I finally came alive.


	6. Sting

Thanksgiving 2001

_Damn it!_

Screaming on the inside, careful not to draw any attention to her. Everyone else was out there, releasing the stress that had been built up during the day. She was meant to join them, but Karen hastily excused herself and made a mad dash for the bathroom, locked the door. She couldn't bear making cheap jokes about her day like Will, Grace and Jack were no doubt doing in order to make some of the heaviness of the situation go away. That wasn't how Karen functioned.

The water pouring out of the faucet wasn't hot enough. She couldn't feel it sting her fingers when she placed her hand in the stream. She turned the knob violently until she was satisfied and stepped into the scalding water. Look up to see the harsh rain pouring from the showerhead. Breathe in the suffocating steam curling into every corner. Feel as though you are melting. Karen watched as her bare skin began to tint red from the water and wondered how long she would have to stay inside this chamber before his words stopped ringing in her ears.

_I just don't want you to feel bad if it does happen. You shouldn't be alone for this long; I don't even know when I'm getting out of here. It could be a while, and I won't blame you if you decide to do it. Karen, all of this is my fault, not yours. You shouldn't have to suffer, too. I don't want you to have to wait for me. It isn't fair._

Sugar coat it any way you want to, Stan. It still pierces through the skin. Don't even think about the fact that she's waited before, numerous times for numerous reasons. But that wasn't what hurt the most; that was just the explanation for what he said, as if that was supposed to make it better. Rewind a bit; go back to the point where the knife actually made contact with the heart.

_Don't take this the wrong way. I'm only thinking of your best interest._

No. Fast forward.

_You have my permission to sleep with other people._

There we go. That's the one.

As if she needed his permission to do anything. For a moment, she was more upset at the fact that he granted her permission than she was at the other half of his sentence. And as it processed in her mind, the knife twisted. The love of his she thought she possessed was obviously not there, or nowhere that Karen could see it. Damn it. Was this how he felt the entire time? Was this how he felt before they even took him away? Were her reservations completely invalidated from the point of conception?

Karen couldn't tell if the stinging in her eyes were from the scalding water seeping in or the saline from her tears. But at least she was feeling something. The car ride back to the apartment made her feel numb, and although she tried to make peace with Stan, she couldn't. So she told him what she thought he wanted to hear and left him thinking she couldn't possibly leave while angry. Just goes to show that you didn't really know her at all, Stan.

God, she felt horrible. Making Will wait. The false starts. The teasing—that's got to be how he thinks of what she's done with him for over a month now. The uncertainty and noncommittal attitude. All of it, when she could have been creating something fantastically beautiful. She wanted to blame Stan for all of it, so he would be the bad guy that he apparently longs to be. But she couldn't.

It was her own fault for failing to see something that was right in front of her.

The stream of water was slowly beginning to lose its force; she knew that eventually she would be standing underneath an ice cold shower. Reluctantly, she turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, the towel she placed on the sink greeting her, ready and waiting to wrap around her. She heard the front door close faintly; Jack must have just left. She didn't mean to rush off like that, without any explanation, but she feared that if she didn't, she would say things she didn't want anyone else to hear, do things she didn't want anyone else to see.

If she was going to hurt, she was going to be the only witness.

When her skin was dry, she changed into her nightgown, took her towel and dabbed at the fog plaguing the mirror, trying to erase any evidence of what she just put herself through, taking swipes at the mirror for removal. _Don't take this the wrong way_. Swipe. _You have my permission to sleep with other people_. Swipe. _I don't want you to have to wait for me_. Swipe.

God. If only it were that simple.

* * *

"Hey. Is everything okay?" Oh, that soothing voice. He seemed to cool her overheated body in a way she could never imagine anyone or anything else doing. She knew she looked horrible; her hair was still a bit damp, she washed her makeup away as best she could under shaky circumstances but still managed to miss a small trace of eyeliner. But when she looked at Will, saw the smile on his face, that comforting grin, she felt like she could do anything.

"It's getting there," she replied. "Where's Grace?"

"She went to bed. I guess everyone's tired from the day." He grabbed the blankets from the love seat in the TV room and brought them to the couch, fluffed the tiny pillows he had been using to rest his head at night. So patient, so willing to go to seemingly any length for her. So much change in just the course of the day.

And all she wanted to do right now was fall asleep in his arms.

"I'm sorry I just ran off like that. Rough day. I didn't think I'd really be great company when we got back, so I thought it would be better to leave the three of you to enjoy yourselves out here."

"Karen, you don't have to explain yourself to me. It's okay."

The first time she could remember that she ever heard that spoken to her. For so long, she felt as though everyone demanded a reason for every little action. Maybe that's what drew her to him in the first place; the fact that nothing was expected from her, and she could just blossom in any direction she wanted to. Something she could very easily get used to. She watched him as he unfolded the blankets and draped them over the couch. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Getting ready for bed. It's late," he replied.

"No." She took his hand and led him to the bedroom, kept the lights off. She hoped he didn't notice the slight trembling resonating in her skin; on some level, she didn't expect him to be so kind after all of her back and forth for the past month. She sat down on the bed, patted the mattress next to her as a sign to join her. "Karen," Will started. Oh god. He was about to let her down. She was waiting for something along the lines of "This isn't such a good idea" or worse, "You don't really expect this to happen, do you?" But he surprised her.

"Are you sure this is what you want?"

She smiled at him and nodded, felt the mattress give a little as he lay down beside her and wrapped her in his arms. To feel his skin against hers, the caress of his breath against the back of her neck. It was more than she could ever hope for. "Just promise me one thing." When she heard him say "Anything" she took a breath.

"Promise me that you won't leave me, too."

Will buried his face against her back and she felt him smile before he answered her.

"Karen, that will never happen. You've got my word."


	7. Giggle For Me

December 3rd 2001

That smile, the one she can barely contain and will sometimes bite her lower lip to control it. That brightness in her voice now, even when she says the simplest of things. That gaze she has when her eyes start to light up at whatever thought is going through her mind. That giggle she let out at certain times when she had the phone up to her ear. This wasn't her. This wasn't the Karen Walker that Grace had come to know. She didn't know what happened in the past week, but she had seen Karen go through some sort of transformation. And as much as she was happy for her to be out of the darkness that seemed to have plagued her since Stan went to prison, she was mainly concerned with finding out what the hell was going on.

She didn't want to believe that Karen would do it, would even think about doing it. Sure, she had Stan's blessing, as horrible as that sounded. And Karen wasn't exactly the most morally upright person in the world; in a sick way, it was that fact that actually gave her a good portion of her charm. But Grace assumed that even she had her limits. Everyone did.

Right?

Grace watched across the office as Karen put the phone back in its cradle. There, she's doing it again; the giggle, the sigh, and if she waits…right on cue, the lower lip. She knew she shouldn't prod into Karen's personal life. But she was so amazed by this phenomenon that she had to figure out what, or who, was causing it. "Who was that?" she asked.

She was surprised by how quickly Karen's façade changed.

"Oh, don't worry about it, honey; it was for me. It wasn't important." Karen waved her off and started flipping through the same copy of _Vogue_ she's been feigning interest in for the past week and a half; there was no way that she was going to fill Grace in on the fact that Will had to call just to hear her voice, to tide him over until they're finally home and in each other's arms once again. They hadn't planned on filling her in on anything about their relationship, for that matter.

Any other person would have just let it at that. But Grace was always intrigued by Karen on some level. She was constantly curious about the way things worked with her. And now that things had taken such a dramatic shift, it was only natural to want to know why.

"Seemed important to me," Grace pressed. "I mean, look at you, once you had that phone in your hand, you turned into this bubbly, animated person." She walked over to Karen's desk while she could tell that Karen was trying to avoid eye contact. "Kare, you're not actually doing it, are you?"

Their eyes met. "What are you talking about?"

"Look, I know Stan said he wouldn't mind it. And I know that it's been hard for you since they took him away. But that doesn't mean that you should throw away everything you had with him. It's not like they're going to keep him there forever. You're a strong woman; you'll be able to get through this on your own."

She thought it was a nice way to put it. She thought she was beating around the bush without doing any actual damage. She thought that maybe, if she worded her thoughts correctly, Karen wouldn't realize her true intent, and she would in turn be confided in.

She was wrong.

"Where do you get off?" Karen said softly. Her voice picked up volume and intensity with each word she uttered. "First of all, I don't really think that who I'm on the phone with, or what I'm doing with my personal life, is any of your business. Yes, you've been very generous in opening your home to me, but even that doesn't grant you access to my secrets. And second of all, how can you know anything I'm going through right now?" She stood up and grabbed her jacket, headed towards the door. "Get back to me when you're married and he betrays you. Then we can talk."

And with that, Karen was gone.

* * *

They avoided each other the entire night. Gazing towards their plates at dinner, talking only when spoken to by Will. Grace didn't speak of their encounter when Karen went off to shower, leaving her alone with him. From the way things were going lately, he would probably take Karen's side. "Well, she has a point, Grace; it isn't really fair of you to ask what's going on if she doesn't feel like sharing it with you in the first place." It was already in her mind; he didn't need to say it.

She watched as Karen retreated to Will's bedroom—he had to be uncomfortable, sleeping on the couch for almost two months, she thought—and got up from the loveseat, opting out of whatever rerun was on the television at the moment. She walked into her own bedroom, turned down the sheets and crawled into bed.

But the way she left things with Karen still haunted her.

Did she really have to be that nosy? People are entitled to their secrets; she should have respected that. If anything, she merely wanted to live vicariously through Karen during her lack of a love life; if she was carrying on with an affair, it was obviously stunning enough to change her whole demeanor, her outlook on life, and that's all Grace ever wanted. It was her own selfishness that caused this rift between them. And she had to make it right.

She wouldn't be able to sleep if she didn't.

Grace was planning it as she walked out of the bedroom and started pacing the hallway. Something like, "I was being completely selfish. You were right in everything you said to me; I don't know what you're going through, and I'm sorry for assuming I did."

Damn. The floorboards creaked beneath her feet as she walked, and she didn't want to wake Will. She went out to the living room to see if he was still sleeping. But he wasn't on the couch.

"What the hell?" she whispered out loud.

Maybe he was in the bathroom. But wait, that didn't make sense; the blankets weren't even on the couch. No, he couldn't be…wait a minute, Grace. Just hold on. Maybe he went out to grab something to eat. It's Manhattan; of course there were places open late at night. It didn't seem like him to go out this late during the week, but then again, she's witnessed a lot of behavior lately that's made her wonder. She started back to her bedroom when she heard it again.

That giggle. Karen's giggle.

Soft and quick, but Grace was certain that that's what the noise was. She stood frozen, wanting to move but feeling as though she couldn't. She heard it again, louder this time. But wait, someone else was in there. She heard a "Shhh" followed by an all too familiar voice. "We have to be quiet; we'll wake her."

Oh god no.

"I'll be right back." Same voice, then Karen's with a sweet an innocent, "Promise?" This was a dream. Had to be. There was no way…

Footsteps, the doorknob turning…

And when the door finally opened, Grace was faced with a speechless and completely stunned Will, frozen in the doorway.


	8. By The Door

December 12th 2001

"Maybe I'd just stay here for good."

Spoken in a whisper. She hadn't even realized she was thinking out loud. But the truth was, this had been plaguing her mind for weeks. Granted, she had made herself at home here, and she knew she wouldn't be kicked out any time soon, if at all. But Stan would be getting out eventually. And she knew he expected everything to go back to normal once he was released. It was all he ever talked about when she used to visit him. Used to. She couldn't bear to go back after the Thanksgiving fiasco. And she was positive that he was wondering where she was. She didn't think she could face him.

And, if she had to be honest, she wasn't sure if she could face him when he's released.

"How would that work out?"

Karen jumped at his voice. "God, you scared me. I thought you were asleep."

"You're really thinking about staying here?"

"You say that like you're surprised. Look, the more I think about it, the more I realize that I don't see him in the same light I once did. I don't think I can do it anymore. And I know that I'm a bitch for thinking of leaving him when he needs me the most, but I really don't know what else I'm supposed to do about it." She sighed and turned towards him. Will brushed her hair behind her ear and hovered over her.

"Don't say that. You're only human."

How he was able to calm her nerves in an instant with his voice was beyond her. But she wasn't about to question it and make it go away. If she had to go back to Stan after all of this, she would miss that about him the most. She was never able to find that with anyone, even though she tried desperately to find it in Stan, in the others she thought she loved. It was rare, and she treasured it more than he knew. "One thing though," she said, knowing that it had to be brought out into the open. "You need to make things right with her first."

"Karen…"

"I don't want to be the reason your friendship with Grace is messed up. I won't be able to live with that. Talk it out, do whatever you need to do. Please, it's been over a week now. And I have to play messenger between the two of you. It's awkward, and I know you think that too."

He sighed. "We'll see," he whispered to her. "It's not that easy."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Grace ran as soon as she saw Will in the doorway that night. As if it were a bad dream she was trying to get away from. As if she had seen something she shouldn't have. How was she supposed to know that he was the one turning Karen into this blissfully happy woman she's never met before? Slamming the bedroom door behind her, Grace tried to put it all together, tried to figure out how she couldn't see something that was directly in front of her. And until she figured it out, she didn't know if she could look at Will the same way.

Even after she figured it out, she didn't know if she could look at him the same way.

From then on, she found it best if she didn't talk to him. That way, she wouldn't let something slip that she didn't ultimately mean to say, and she wouldn't dig them into a deeper hole. She eventually apologized to Karen for trying to be some sort of moral high ground. And once she did that, she looked to Karen as a form of communication; she was able to get to Will that way, even though it killed her that the rift grew deeper by the hour.

It wasn't as though she didn't try to feel okay with the way things surprisingly were. He was making Karen happy in a way that Stan obviously couldn't. Even when he was an active part of her life, her husband didn't make her smile nearly as wide as Will did. To the best of Grace's memory, she could hardly remember a time when he made her smile at all; the times dealing with Stan that stuck out the most was when she was yelling at him over the phone, or complaining about some little thing he did or didn't do. Karen definitely seemed as though she was happy to greet each day. Maybe it was because now she had something, or someone, rather, to live for.

But just the fact that it was Will doing this threw Grace off.

This wasn't how it was supposed to work between the two of them. It wasn't how it went. Maybe the attraction was there all along, and Grace had fallen victim to trickery in the form of stinging insults and quick comebacks. Maybe if she just had a bit of time to get used to the idea, she would be able to talk to him again. Maybe she was just being a fool.

The only thing that's changed is that they're both happy. That's all.

Was she really willing to let him slip away?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I'm going to grab something to drink." She began to move from the bed when he pulled her back in and brushed his lips against hers. God, she could stay in his arms forever. The only place she felt safe. The only place she felt it was okay to be herself. The only place where she was herself. She knew she would have to face a decision when Stan was released. But for right now, she was planning on taking in every moment with Will, getting her fill until that unimaginable day arrived.

She stood up and wrapped a robe around her bare skin, took a look at him and smiled. "Do you want anything while I'm up?"

He shook his head. "Just for you to come back to me."

Karen left the door open a crack when she left. Will could see the lights turn on in the living room. It could be like this every night. If she was serious about staying here, they wouldn't have to face reality again. Bt who's to say that what has happened between them isn't real?

Will, don't be an idiot. You know damn well that once they open his cell, things could go back to normal in a second. Whatever normal was in the first place. He was always worried that one day she'll leave this bed, or walk out the door, and she won't come back. At one point, he even told her about it, but she laughed it away, said that that was never going to happen, that she would always come back to him, and somehow that always made it okay. But what if one day it actually happens? She laughs about it now, but what happens when something inside her tells her to run?

He heard footsteps as the crack of light coming through the door disappeared. Figuring it was Karen, he lay back down in bed, waiting for her to open the door. Waiting for her smile. Waiting for her kiss. Waiting.

She wasn't coming in.

"Karen?" he asked softly, trying not to wake Grace. No answer.

Just a knock on the door.

And he knew immediately who was behind it.


	9. Promise Me

December 13th 2001

"Can I come in?" Her voice was meek and sounded as though she was already defeated before she even started. He was surprised that she came to his door, that she sounded so small. This was not the one he knew before. Grace was the one constant in his life, he had to give her that much. No matter what happened to him, she would always be at home waiting with a smile on her face. But a lot can change in a week's time; he had to learn that the hard way.

"Will?" she asked.

It slipped his mind that he never responded to her. "Yeah, come on in." The door opened a bit wider and he saw Grace slide through the crack before closing it again. She looked as though she hadn't slept in days, and he wondered if that was just the affect of washing her makeup away or if she truly lay awake at night. He looked over at the clock as it screamed "1:18 AM" in bold red numbers. "It's late," he declared in a tone that was harsher than he meant. He tried to make up for it. "Is everything okay?"

Grace stepped to the edge of his bed. She seemed scared to touch the sheets, to even sit down at the foot of the bed to talk to him, and Will wondered at what point did it get to this. Recalling the past few days, it seemed to have gone into a plateau of indifference. At what point did she start fearing a conversation with him? "Um…" she faltered; she didn't have a plan of how to go about this past knocking on his door. "Last week." Fragments. It was a start. "I just…I didn't know."

"That's how we wanted it. For now, anyway." He didn't look at her, but he felt her eyes piercing through him. "It's not that we didn't think you could keep a secret or anything. We just wanted to avoid something like…well, something like what happened last week. It had nothing to do with whether or not she and I trusted you. Sit down. You can ask me anything about it, if it would make you feel better."

She stared at him for a moment before doing what she was told. "When did it start?"

"Officially, Thanksgiving. Technically, the night they arrested Stan. I told her that she was confused and a lot happened that night, that she should take some time to think about everything. From then on, it was back and forth until we all came home from visiting everyone on Thanksgiving."

"Why?"

"I can't answer that. I don't know why she chose me or why I wanted it; all I know is that she makes me happier than I've ever been."

They sat there, sixteen years of friendship hanging in the balance, hanging on the words that they were spilling out. She couldn't understand how they let it sink this deep; he was trying to figure out how to save it while he still could. No words, but she wasn't going to leave until they fixed this. It may have been awkward conversation before, but at least it was a start. No words now.

Only silence.

* * *

She was the one who caused this destruction.

Anyone could see it.

It was she who squeezed her way into their home, their lives, with no warning. It was she who led him off course. It was she who teased to keep him interested. It was she who finally gave in and she who made him wrap his arms around her. True, he could have wanted all of that, he could have indulged in it willingly. But it was that one sentence she had to let slip in her home—"I can't sleep here tonight"—that cracked the foundation he and Grace had put down. It was she who caused it all, and it was she who was just standing there, watching as it wobbled. And now it was only a matter of time before the whole thing came crashing down.

Karen heard footsteps, Grace's small voice before she walked into the bedroom, and let out a slight sigh of relief. She didn't want to be around when they finally talked it out. She figured someone—probably Grace—would be putting the blame on her, and she didn't want to hear what she already knew.

Will had denied that any of this was her fault, and while she was grateful to him for trying to make her feel better, she knew better than to fully believe his attempts. Grace had been kind; she hadn't stated the obvious. She didn't speak about what Karen had done to this family. But because no one had brought it out in the open, Karen was left to care for it by herself, and let it fester inside of her. And, if she had to be honest, she wouldn't have it any other way. She didn't necessarily like to burden other people with her problems—it was bad enough that Will caught her in such a vulnerable state the night they took Stan away, but she let it slide when she realized all he meant to her—and for no one to bring up the obvious elephant in the room in front of her was somewhat of a relief.

Behind closed doors, where she can't hear or see. Where she isn't invited. That was how she wanted it.

She took her glass and sat down on the couch. It's funny how people are instantly able to recall when and where their life changed, took a turn they never expect it to take. A wedding, the birth of a child, perhaps. When the one you loved said they couldn't love you back in the car, in a restaurant, in some sort of public place where you couldn't make a scene. When your world is turned upside down by those three little words: "You're under arrest." But that wasn't even the moment Karen recognized as the defining one. It was that night, on this couch, when her life changed. When she realized where she needed to be. When she realized who she needed to be.

She looked down the hallway, towards the closed bedroom door. Life changed, but for the better.

But she wondered how long it would stay that way.

* * *

Silence.

"Please say something."

"I don't know what else I can say, Will. Other than the fact that I need some time to get used to this. Can you give me that?"

"I don't want to lose you."

Grace gave him a faint smile. "You haven't. I'm not mad. This is different, but I'm not exactly against it."

Relief. From the way things were left last week, Will had expected her to scream him out, but the calm in the room was a greatly appreciated surprise. He watched her get up from the edge of the bed and walk towards him. Felt her arms around him, a quick kiss on the cheek, a sort of peace offering. She walked to the door and opened it, looked down the hallway to find Karen on the couch, her back turned towards Grace, waiting. She looked back at Will.

"Promise me you won't get hurt."

He sat up. There was no true way to ensure that ever happening, but he could see the concern in Grace's eyes for him. She's seen him broken before, and it wasn't a pretty sight. He took a breath before responding to her.

"I will try not to."


	10. I Hate To See You Go

October 31st 2002

_Girl, you know I hate to see you go  
__I hate to see you go  
But the sunlight follows you right down the road_

Promise me you won't get hurt.

I will try not to.

Tried. Failed. Sorry, Grace, I did my best. She doesn't seem to care anymore; she's too engrossed in Leo, watching him from the passenger seat on our drive home. I did my best to prepare myself for the end, knowing it would most likely happen, despite your proposed fairy tale ending—you would stay against my skin, I would be wrapped in your warmth after Stan was released and we would live happily ever after. I knew that that was never how it really went. But you had me believing it for a moment, although I knew that it would never come to be, and once I reached that point, there was no going back. Even when you were uncertain, you had me believing it. And when you left, I blamed it on a change of plans. There was no way I would make you out to be a liar.

Although I watched you go, I couldn't make you out to be a liar.

You really tried near the end; I have to give you that. I could see the hesitation in your eyes at times, but your voice, your touch, reassured me that it was nothing to worry about. You told me that the only thing you were sure of was that your new home was with me. You told me that little by little, you were going to bring all of your belongings, the things you truly cared about, back to the apartment and never look back. And you started on that. You asked me to take you back at different points so you could pick up some clothes, or some makeup you left by the bathroom sink. But, even if you were trying not to, you did look back.

And because of that, you started to go long before you walked out the door.

Looking back, I know that bringing you back to where it all started, where it all took a turn, would probably end badly. But I could never deny you. So I stood back and watched as you took in something that, little by little, was becoming foreign to you, and I could see the nostalgia running through you. As much as you complained about the house, and the life that came with it, to me, I could tell that on some level you were missing it. And that was exactly what made me hesitate with you in the first place.

That first night, when we were on the couch and you first pressed your lips against mine, I stopped it from happening again. But it wasn't because I didn't want it. It wasn't because I didn't feel the same way, and it wasn't because I had reservations about your marriage; I knew he wasn't treating you in the way he should, and I knew I was able to do so. The thing that kept me from taking you into my arms that night was the fact that I knew, in the long run, that I wasn't able to give you everything that Stan could so easily give. And I knew that eventually, you would be longing for those things once again, no matter how many times you told me you were perfectly content with this new life.

It wasn't because you were lying to keep me satisfied. You're not like that. You wouldn't deceive someone in order to make them happy, because you know how that can backfire; you saw it in your mother, and you learned from it, you once told me. I'd be willing to bet that you were unaware of it all up until his release. You were subconsciously crying out for home, and when he came back, all of it was brought into the spotlight.

But you told me you would spend your days here from then on. And I believed you.

At first, I thought nothing of the moment that you were starting to have second thoughts. You had told me that you needed to visit him. You hadn't seen him since that Thanksgiving night, and you thought that if you didn't see him soon, he would begin to get a little suspicious about what you were doing. He gave you permission to sleep with other people, but even so, you couldn't let him think that you weren't supporting him, because on some level, you still were, even if you wouldn't let it show. Even if you didn't think you were sometimes. And I couldn't fault you for that. I told you that I would take you to the prison, and I would just wait outside; you could stay as long as you needed to. You seemed to like the idea. If I only knew how that first visit would go.

When we pulled up to the building, you didn't get out of the car. Your gaze didn't leave the windshield, and it seemed like you had so much on your mind. I was about to start the car up and leave; after you've seen the building, it was as though you didn't want to be here, like you decided all of a sudden that this wasn't the best thing to do. I told you that I would be right here, that I wasn't going anywhere. But that wasn't good enough.

You wanted me to go in with you.

I didn't know what to think of it at first. It seemed as though you were looking to me for support; it would be the first visit with him in a long time, and you wanted me to go in to make sure you would see it through, to make sure that you wouldn't run the first chance you got. But then we saw him. You were the one who did all the talking. And as you said all the things you had, just the night before, said to me, you glanced over at me every now and again. Right then, it seemed as though you wanted me there so I could see how it was supposed to be, so I could see who would have your heart once things started to go back to normal.

But you couldn't be that cold. On the way home, you told me that you couldn't face him alone, not after avoiding him for that long. And that's what I believed. It's what I wanted to believe. Otherwise, I would have had to face the fact that this was only a warning sign in your leaving, that you were beginning to go once we set foot inside the building.

And I couldn't deal with that yet.

I almost couldn't stand it when you decided to step out, whether you had to go to work or you wanted to grab something to eat or wanted to take a walk around the city. I couldn't watch you walk out the door, because there was always that small possibility that you would never come back. One night, I confessed this small secret to you, and you gave me that giggle in return, that soothing noise that I never want out of my head, that's beginning to fade a little more every day. You said that you would always come back to me, and that I would have nothing to worry about.

But that was before Stan was released. That was before you decided to go back.

That was before I got hurt.

Because of this, I not only failed you for not being able to give you all that you needed, I failed Grace as well. She didn't want to see me broken. And although I tried my best not to let it show once you left, she knew I was cracking. Our time together was short, and it probably shouldn't have affected me the way it did. But it left a mark, and there's nothing I can do to hide it.

I told myself I would be prepared to see you go. But the night you finally did was unbearable. The way you haphazardly threw everything into your bags. How you were hoping I wouldn't catch the elevator in time, and how silent you were when I did. The look in your eyes as you gazed at me before getting into the taxi. Those were the things that I remember the most. Those were the things that cut the deepest. I could tell you were trying to make this easy on me, but while one can have the best intentions, they can leave the biggest damage in their wake.

I should have known you were beginning to waver about us.

I just wish I had taken that first visit with Stan as a sign, instead of merely shrugging it off.

I'm a fool.


	11. Sheet Of Glass

February 12th 2002

_I need to see him._

_We can go whenever you want, Karen. I'm not stopping you from seeing him. I'll drive you and wait outside; you can take however long you need to. I just want you to be sure this is what you want; I mean, you haven't been all that enthusiastic about visiting him since Thanksgiving._

_I don't really have a choice, Will._

On the other side of the glass, she saw a different man. One who had experienced all the things he worked to avoid. One who had started to acquire a new appreciation for the things that he did have. But they went through the same routine they had before he was arrested. Before this twist of fate led them both down paths they never expected to set foot on. Before she ever touched the skin of the one sitting next to her with feeling and heart, instead of doing it merely to push him away.

Karen could barely concentrate on the conversation she was supposedly engaged in with Stan. Her conversations with Will were swimming in her mind, and they showed no signs of rest. Luckily for her, she was getting by with generic statements for the most part. She looked beside her and saw Will sitting there, perfectly still, perfectly silent; he had greeted Stan at the beginning of this session, but soon after resumed his role as support system to her. He wasn't supposed to be here. He was supposed to wait in the car while she spoke to Stan, and once she felt satisfied that she had fulfilled her duties as a supportive wife she would get back in the car and pretend like nothing happened. But once she saw the building, she knew she couldn't go in there alone.

_I'll be waiting for you out here. I'm not going anywhere._

_I can't. I just can't. Come in with me. Please, Will, I'll feel so much better if you were just there with me. I don't think I can do this on my own this time._

_Are you sure that's a good idea, Karen?_

_Why wouldn't it be?_

_I could slip and say something I shouldn't. You could slip and let something out about us. Maybe we'll act like we're too close or I'll look at you the wrong way and make him suspicious. I don't want to get you in trouble with him; the last thing I want for you is more hardship._

_Please. I need you._

Damn it, give it a rest. You're not here for that, Karen, you're here for Stan. Clear your mind and get it over with so you can go home. She held the receiver between her ear and her shoulder and drew her finger down the glass separating them. It had come to this.

She wasn't an idiot; she knew that he was probably doing something on the wrong side of the law, possibly for years. No one could achieve that much wealth and power in the short amount of time it took him to achieve it. It couldn't be done, at least not with a guilty conscience. She played oblivious, but she knew eventually it would come back to haunt him.

She was only waiting for it to happen. And when they took him away, she didn't feel shock for the fact that they caught him. She felt shock for the fact that it took them this long to get suspicious. And while this sheet of glass had taken her aback the first time she visited, she had gotten used to it over time and came to appreciate it. For once, power shifted. For once, she was the one who was in control of things while he was forced to sit there and watch everything happening. For once, he was not an active player in her life. She was beginning to like it.

"Will it be like it was?"

Trapped in her own thoughts, she didn't hear that statement. She didn't even see his lips move; she was too busy looking at Will, wondering what he was thinking, wondering if he knew what the two of them were talking about. He couldn't hear Stan's end of the conversation, but she wondered if he could figure out what he was saying by how she responded.

"Karen?"

"What?" Oh god, that was harsh. That was mean. Keep it neutral, Karen, keep it calm. "I'm sorry, honey. What did you say?"

"Will it go back to normal once I'm out of here?"

The one thing she couldn't answer. The one thing Will dared not to bring up. Whenever they talked about the future, it was always she who initiated it, and it was never concrete. She couldn't help it; she felt the lump in her throat, the tears start to well up. She bowed her head down and couldn't catch the tear before it danced down her cheek, landing on the back of her hand, settled on her lap.

Out of the corner of her eye. No, he wasn't. Maybe he thought that Stan wouldn't be able to see it, so he was safe. Maybe he didn't care. She closed her eyes as Will's thumb brushed the saline away before his fingers wove with hers. He was only trying to help her, she knew that; making his presence known so he could comfort her if she needed it. But what he didn't know was that he just made her response a million times harder to speak.

"Yeah," she whispered. It wasn't very convincing, but he seemed to believe it. Stan had hope in his voice when he asked her that question. She couldn't crush that. She looked at Will, who was giving her a smile. He had no idea what she just agreed to. He didn't know what Stan had asked her. Unless he had the ability to read lips. But the smile on his face told Karen that he had no clue about the conversation from Stan's end.

"I love you, Karen. I want you to visit me more often."

"I love you too." The smile faded from Will's face, little by little. "Maybe I will. You know, with work and everything, I really have to check my schedule."

Stan gave her the loving words she had been craving from him for years. She didn't know how to respond to them other than saying them back, and she knew she was hurting Will in the process. But there was no way she could say outright to him that she didn't need those words anymore. That wasn't what she was supposed to do when visiting Stan. She kept to protocol, but she couldn't help feeling horrible about it.

On the way home, everything will sink in. On the way home, she'll realize that she told Stan that everything would be the same as it once was. On the way home, she'll realize she didn't really mean what she said to Stan.

But when she gets back home, she'll wonder if she meant it. She'll wonder if she was supposed to go back to the manse. Go back to the life she built with Stan. She knew it was expected of her. But she had a habit of doing the unexpected lately. God, she wished he hadn't have asked her that. She was so ready to stay with Will, or at least she had thought she was. But when Stan asked her if things would go back to normal, she thought of how life was like with him. Yes, there were many things that could be better with that life. But it was comfortable. She had gotten used to it, after all these years.

When she gets back home, she'll realize she's just where she started.

She doesn't know what she wants.


	12. My Heart's Keeper

April 17th 2002

She was letting him slip.

Spending too much time touching the glass that separated her from her husband, no human touch, because she felt guilty. Trying to make up for the months she lost in attempts to get revenge on him—you want her to sleep with other people, she'll cut you off altogether. But in trying to get back into Stan's good graces, if she was ever out of them and uncertain she wanted to still be in them to begin with, she started to distance herself from Will. And that was the last thing she wanted.

The only time she felt a reconnection with him lately was after she came home from visiting Stan. Once she mustered up the courage to start going to the prison on her own, she stopped telling him where she was going. And where Stan once felt overjoyed to see her, he now seemed as though he had better things to do. She didn't want to be there, but she felt she needed to be, and if he was not going to appreciate the effort she was making to support him, she wasn't going to make an effort to seem happy to see him. On the way home, she always felt alone and unwanted. But she knew that when she opened the door, Will would give her what she desired.

So after her visits with Stan, she would make love to Will.

It was her way of knowing that he would always be there for her. The way he tenderly caressed her skin and the soft kisses to her lips reassured her that yes, she was loved. Yes, she was wanted. Yes, she would never be abandoned, no matter what she may feel from anyone else. But she couldn't bear telling him where she had been. She didn't want to make him feel like this was a competition. Even if it was, he was winning, hands down.

Karen went to visit Stan today, and stayed later than usual. She was trapped; he began talking about what they would do once he got out—"We could take a trip, Karen. Wherever you want to go. We could slip away for a couple of weeks. Catch up, try to get back to normal." She knew he never really meant that; she could tell that his heart wasn't in it when he said those things. They seemed like filler, like he was just saying what came to his mind first so he could bridge the gap. Going through the motions to make it seem like her trip wasn't a complete waste of time.

To be honest, it pissed her off.

When she got home, she continued the tradition with Will. He was beside her, sleeping, had been for an hour now. He should know by now; leaving her to her own thoughts was never good. Giving her time to think about the situation was usually disastrous. She stared at the ceiling, listened carefully to the sound of his even breathing. She wanted to know what he was dreaming about. If she was in his mind.

She knew that she promised Stan that things would go back to the way they were. And he seemed so happy about it at first, but now it seemed as though he could care less. So should she even keep that promise? Would it be so bad if she just took the rest of her things and left? Something he experienced during his time there made him realize that the life he had led with her was not all that it was cracked up to be. Maybe that was a blessing to the both of them.

But she was worried about Will. She felt like he was beginning to slip from her grasp, and it was all her fault. She was too wrapped up in making sure Stan didn't suspect anything that she started to lose what meant the most to her. Even in the way he fell asleep next to her. She looked in his direction. His back was turned to her, unlike most nights when he would wrap her in his arms and hold her through the night. She felt like she was betraying him by going to the prison. And she couldn't take it.

The one thing in her life that was going right, and she found a way to screw it up.

She felt it again; that lump in her throat. Something she had been getting used to, but still hated to show. Karen got out of bed and felt a chill when she was free from the sheets; Will had opened the bedroom window, letting the air of an unusually cold night in, something she didn't understand but didn't question. She slipped her robe over her bare skin, and rushed past their discarded clothes lying on the floor to the living room. Made her way to the balcony.

And she broke down.

The tears stung her eyes, but they wouldn't quit. She leaned on the rail for support. She didn't know how to make this one right. Feeling the presence of someone behind her, but not caring at this point, she nearly jumped when she felt arms wrapping around her waist. This was not Will's touch; his was different. She couldn't pick out anyone else's but Will's touch she knew all too well. Grace. It couldn't be anyone else.

"He loves you," she said. Karen couldn't look at her, and truth be told, Grace didn't need her to.

"I know. I just think that…"

"You're wrong. You're not here to see him when you're gone. He waits for you. You're not going to lose him. You're just in a funk because of Stan, but you'll get out of it. Trust me. Your connection with him is too strong for it to break that easily."

Karen broke free from Grace's grasp, turned to face her as she dried her eyes. "Why are you doing this?" she asked. They hadn't talked about what went on between she and Will, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to start now. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"Because I've seen how happy you make him. And how happy he makes you. I have no right to deny you that. You shouldn't deny yourself, either."

Karen gave Grace a small smile as a thank you as she walked back into the apartment. Will was still asleep, back turned towards her side of the bed. She took off her robe and crawled back into bed, ran her fingers along the goosebumps on his skin from the cold coming in from the window before kissing his chill flesh. "I'm sorry," she whispered, planted a kiss in the "L" formed by his neck and shoulder. She repeated those two words, knowing that it wasn't enough, but at least it was a start.

Slowly, he turned onto his back and opened his eyes to find Karen hovering above him. "You didn't do anything," he replied, his voice bogged down by sleep. His naivety made him so charming against the dark of the night. As he took her hand and kissed her palm, she let out a little laugh.

"I messed up. I tried not to distance myself, but…"

"You didn't. I knew you would come back to me." He smiled.

"I don't want to go back there anymore. He seems bored with me. I can't do it. I don't want him. I want to go back to the manse and start getting all of my things out of there. I don't know him anymore."

Karen rested her head on his chest, felt his heart beating against her cheek. No matter what was troubling her, this always calmed her down. She could never explain it. His touch, his heart, his smile. These were the things that let her know that she was going to be okay. "I love you," she whispered. She felt his lips against the crown of her head.

"I can't find the words to tell you how much I love you."

She looked up at him and smiled. He never lied to her; he kept true to his word. Something Stan could never do. Something she always needed. She felt it; this was home. This was the place where she could start over, where she could be happy. Where she could feel alive.

She brought his palm to her lips and kissed it.

"My heart belongs to you," she whispered softly before falling asleep.


	13. I Love You So Much

September 26th 2002

_You're sure you don't want me to come with you? It's really no problem, Karen. Maybe you can get more things out of the house that way. I could help you carry things._

_Don't worry about it, honey, it's fine. I appreciate it, but I only want to take a couple of small things with me this time. It won't take me long, I swear to you. It'll bore you. I can handle it on my own. I'll just take what I can get tonight, and I'll get the rest next time._

_You know, that is exactly what you said that last month. And the month before that, now that I think about it._

Giggling. _I mean it this time. I'll be back before you know it._

_I'll be waiting for you. I love you._

_I love you, too, Will._

Being back here was the last thing she wanted to do. Which is why the gaps between trips were so wide. Back to where it all started. Back to where the life she knew shattered and she realized she would have to start over again. She came back here in April to take a couple belongings with her back home, intending to come back every week until everything was cleared out of the house. But after the first visit, she didn't think she would be able to do it again in seven days' time. So she stretched it out to once a month—sometimes once every other month—and only took a few things.

Up to the closet, take some clothes, only the ones that she could see herself wearing with Will. Or maybe she should just forget them and buy more when she settled in at home. Don't waste time on this, you don't need anything here. She felt like she was against the clock, but she didn't know why. She would have been notified of Stan's release, and it wasn't as if she was running away from him while he was still in the house. But she didn't want to be here. Karen wanted to make this as quick and painless as possible.

_Somehow I knew that when my cell phone rang, it would be you. _Giggling._ I've been gone for all of sixty seconds. I haven't even left the sidewalk yet, Will._

_I just had an intense need to hear your voice._

_I'm coming back. You know that. There's nothing there that would make me want to stay anymore. I'm coming home to you soon. I'll make this trip quick, I promise. I love you._

_I love you too, Karen._

His voice ringing inside her mind once again. It usually happened during her visits with Stan, but she hadn't been to the prison to see him in months. She knew that was what was keeping her from giving herself fully to Will, and she treasured him more than anything. Waking up to his voice in the mornings. Feeling his kisses against her skin. Hearing the twist on her name he uses; he's the only one who will speak those syllables like that. Watching him light up every time he makes her laugh, like he didn't expect her reaction, and it came as a perfect surprise.

These were the things she loved most about life.

These were the things she wanted to protect the most.

But she hadn't heard his voice ringing in months. It hadn't happened while she was taking things from this place—she couldn't bear to call it home anymore—but she blamed it on the fact that this was a place she shared with Stan, and the constant reminder of Will was keeping her from wanting to come back here. She kept telling him that he had nothing to worry about, and he seemed to believe her; there was nothing more keeping her here. As long as she didn't run into Stan during one of these trips, she would make a swift return.

Okay, leave the closet, you've spent too much time in here already and you're not even taking much. Don't let those pant legs drag on the floor. Get to the bedroom. Grab the makeup kit on the nightstand; you're running out at home, and this way you won't have to buy more. Although Will kept telling her she was a natural beauty. But grab it anyway, just to have it.

_I can run over there quickly, it wouldn't take me long. I can help you out._

_I promise you I'll be fine. You're worried, aren't you? That I'll run into him._

_Can't blame me if it's crossed my mind._

_I haven't heard anything about his release. It'll be okay. Trust me. He won't be there, and I can be in and out of there in no time. The driver just pulled up to the manse. I have to go. I won't be long._

_I love you so much, Karen._

_I love you, too._

It was his last words to her that wouldn't leave her mind. She knew that he was worried that some day he'll be at this place, waiting for her to come back "home." But this was the first time he ever expressed this to her. He usually kept it to himself; the thought of it was too painful to even bring up. She didn't want to keep him waiting much longer. Hurry up, you've got everything you need in this room. Go downstairs, do a quick check of the living room to see if you left anything there. She heard someone downstairs. Must be Rosario; she never left when Karen did, and she never expected her to. Forget the living room, you'll get the rest of this stuff next time. Just leave. Go back to your love.

She raced down the stairs and had her hand on the door.

"There you are."

She froze.

"I was wondering what happened to you. I haven't heard from you in months. You haven't come to visit me in so long. I was beginning to worry about you."

"What the hell are you doing here?" She didn't mean that to sound so harsh, but she didn't care.

"You didn't get my call? They let me go. I'm free."

She turned to face Stan. Damn it. She was so close. So close. If she wanted to, she could open the door and make a run for it, back to Will's. And she desperately wanted to. He wouldn't be able to catch her if he tried. But it was that little promise, that stupid little promise she regretted, that was keeping her in her place. About how things would go back to normal. She didn't think she'd be here to follow through on it.

"Sit down, let's talk. You can tell me how it was living with Will and Grace. I can't believe you even took him up on his offer."

"He was generous," she heard herself say softly as she took a seat next to him. She looked at the door and heard Will's voice. _I love you so much, Karen_. Until she realized it wasn't Will.

"I love you so much, Karen."

She hesitated. It wouldn't mean anything. But she didn't know what else to do.

"I love you too, Stan."


	14. Promises Promises

September 27th 2002

"What are you doing?"

She didn't answer him; she couldn't. Her voice would crack. The tears would spill, and she was trying so hard to keep them in. Make a mad dash for the bedroom, throw the clothes in the suitcase and get out of there before he realized what was going on. In her mixed up mind, this was the perfect plan. But if she had to be honest, anything seemed like the perfect plan to her at this moment.

Stan had kept her there for hours. Talking everything out. Promising her things that would probably never happen—"I don't want to go back to work right away. Maybe I'll take some time off and spend it here with you, have the kids stay with their mother for a little while longer." Keeping her from Will. She knew he must have been worried; she swore she would be back in a heartbeat, those promises playing through her head while she stared at the clock, watching the hands spin and signify the start of a brand new cycle. And she didn't know how to tell him that their worst fear had come true, and was sitting right beside her.

When she could find a break in his speech, she told him she had to get back. He made her promise that she would come back here when she was finished. She was so sick of her damn promises. The taxi pulled up to the building on Riverside Drive, and she hated the feeling she had upon seeing it.

For the first time, Karen dreaded going into the apartment.

"Karen," Will was saying now, in the doorway of the bedroom. No, don't look at him. If you look at him, this becomes real. You become the bad one. You break a heart. Concentrate on the suitcase on the bed. "Why did it take you so long to come back?" Silence from her. "What are you doing?" he repeated.

He walked towards the bed and took her wrists in his hands; her fists were filled with clothing ready to be thrown into the suitcase. "Karen, please look at me. Tell me what's going on, I can help—"

"Don't." She jerked herself away from his grip, whipped the clothing in the general direction of the suitcase but missing it completely. "Don't be nice to me right now," she whispered as she stormed out of the room. God, her voice was starting to crack. This wasn't how it was supposed to go; in her mind, she was supposed to be out of here by now. But she should have known not to trust herself, especially at a time like this.

"Wait." His hands at her shoulders, his warmth radiating towards her. There were some things she just couldn't say no to. Will led her to the couch and sat her down. "I don't want you to keep anything from me. Just tell me what's going on. Please."

She was silent for a moment, unable to speak. Maybe it was because she was looking him in the eye. She shut her eyes and took a breath. "He wasn't supposed to be there," she whispered.

He didn't respond. What could he possibly say to that? They both knew that this would eventually come, but neither of them were fully prepared for it. Will got caught up in her talk of the future, their future, one without Stan and without worry. Karen got caught up in the way he held her, cradled in his arms as she was slowly falling asleep at night. They didn't like to talk about what would happen once he came back. It was too heavy, and they didn't need the weight on their shoulders.

"You're going back," he finally said.

She couldn't take it; it was those three words that crushed her. She didn't expect him to understand what she was doing—to be honest, she didn't even fully understand what she was doing. The look in his eyes when he said that was what got to her the most. Completely dark, closed off. Defeated. When she stood up, he didn't stop her. When she moved to the bedroom to finish packing, he didn't follow her. Initial shock had a hard time of fading away. Will thought back to last night; just twenty-four hours ago, Karen was against his chest, spinning tales of their future. _Will you hold me like this months from now? Will you ever get tired of me?_ He hadn't realized that she was serious right away. In the past, she would say those things as a joke. His hesitation made her tense up against his skin; he could feel it. But it wasn't because he wasn't sure of his answer—he merely assumed this was just like any other night. No, he told her. There is nothing you could do to make me tire of you. I'll always be here for you. But now, despite his desire, he couldn't move. He was frozen.

Until she made it to the door, suitcase in hand. Then it became real.

"Karen, don't leave me." He raced to the door as she pushed the button to summon the elevator. His voice sounded pathetic in the doorway, like whatever he said couldn't change the fact that she was leaving. And even though that was most likely the case, he wanted to believe that he had the ability to sway her. She was already here; she didn't have to go back. He could even handle Stan for her, if she needed him to.

"Don't make this harder than it already is." She couldn't turn to face him. Knowing he was already shattered, she couldn't turn around to witness the damage she was doing. And as soon as the elevator doors opened, Karen rushed inside and frantically pressed the button to make the doors shut, hoping he wouldn't catch them.

But he did.

"What is it? I don't understand. We were happy. Weren't we?" She was silent. "I can take care of Stan, if that's what you're worried about. You don't have to go through all of that alone." She was silent. "Don't do this because it will make him happy. Don't do this because this is what he expects of you. You're letting him control your life, your fate, your future, if you do that." She was silent, tears welling in her eyes again. "If you're doing this for yourself, fine. I'm sorry that I couldn't give you everything you deserved. But I know that you're not doing this for yourself. You couldn't have changed your mind about us so dramatically in only a few hours."

No one in the lobby of the building to witness such a pitiful scene, the lover of a married woman doing anything in his power to defy the inevitable. Karen was able to glide quite easily through the space and past the doors. The late night rain beat against her shoulders, forcing her to see that what was happening was not a nightmare. This was real. She was doing what she promised him she would never do.

She was breaking his heart.

She knew it was only a matter of time before she was made out to be a liar.

The taxi was waiting for her curbside. Karen opened the back door and threw her suitcase in. This was it. Crawl into the backseat and shatter him completely. You don't want to do it, but you feel as though you don't have a choice. But he was holding her back. His warmth against her body, his grasp around her arm. She turned around to find his face, raindrops sliding down his cheeks—or were they tears? Karen couldn't tell—and his hair slowly matting to his face.

"Karen, please talk to me. Please tell me why."

God, Will, don't you know it's not that simple? If she had the strength in her to defy her husband, if she had the courage to own up to her happiness, she would do it in a second. But even after all of this, Stan still held a good amount of the power, and she found it impossible to go against him now that he was no longer in prison. She wanted to tell Will that her heart still belonged to him. She wanted to tell him that she would figure something out so that they would eventually be together again. She wanted to tell him that he was the only one she loved. But all these words weren't coming out, no matter how hard she tried.

"I promised" was all she said before she got into the cab and shut the door.

He stood there, eyes locked with hers in a mutual feeling of loss before the taxi began driving off. He stood there, watching it race down the street. He stood there, frozen on the sidewalk, willing her to come back.

But it didn't happen.


	15. Just The Thought Of You

**NOTE:** Lyrics to the Nada Surf song "The Film Did Not Go 'Round" are featured in italics in this chapter.

October 31st 2002, 11:32 PM

_Just the thought of you makes me want to cry__  
Just the thought of you makes me want to cry  
But this deep well of tears has just run dry_

And with that, you were gone.

Grace was fast asleep during the whole ordeal. Oblivious to your exit, oblivious to my protest. Oblivious that I entered the apartment a broken man. She missed it all. The next morning, she would realize that you weren't there. She would ask where you were once the sun came up, and I would give her the short of it. She would want me to give her every last detail, and I would refuse. That's usually how a breakup went between us, and why should this one be any different?

But that's what I loved about you. You were different. You weren't like anyone else that's walked in and out of the door, in and out of my life. You loved me, and I could feel it. In my bones, pulsing through my veins, burrowing in my flesh. I felt it. That never happened before. That's what told me that all of this was real. That's what made it impossible to let you go.

I broke down for you.

It never happened before. I never felt a strong connection to the ones who only stayed for a short time. Even when Michael left, I didn't break down completely; I think that was because I was too much in shock to feel anything else. But that night, I knew it was coming. I waited on the sidewalk in the rain, waiting for you to turn back to me, to get out of the taxi and run to me, saying that you just couldn't face life without me. But you didn't. And I didn't expect you to.

As I walked through the door and got into the elevator, I could feel it forming in my throat, that lump that told me I couldn't make it all go away that easily. And when I went to my bedroom—no longer ours; you had cleared out of there so well that you could walk in there and never believe me if I said you once inhabited this space—I felt the stream start to crawl down my cheek. Stinging my eyes before stinging my skin with its warm bitterness. I felt completely helpless, hopeless.

To tell the truth, I still do.

Which is why it's bittersweet to think of you. I can find comfort in my memories of you. I can smile at my dream of one day seeing you by my bed, telling me you love me, wanting me to take you back. But that is the same dream that taunts me, teases me with something that will most likely never happen. Eventually, my memories of you lead to that last night, something that, even though I expected it, was never prepared for. And as much as I could have made you out to be this cruel, cold-hearted, vindictive woman, I didn't want to. I couldn't hold anything against you; you made a promise to your husband, and you did your best to keep it. It was noble.

I'm just sorry that you had to sacrifice your happiness in order to do that.

I've stopped visiting Grace's office for obvious reasons. But she still tells me everything. Once she realized you were gone, I sat her down and told her what happened, and I told her not to blame you. She must not have, because she tells me that you let your guard down and confess about your home life. That Stan paid you all the attention in the world for all of three days before going back to the same old routine you were trapped in before his arrest. That you think you made a mistake by going back to him. And that even if you did make a mistake, there was no turning back now.

That's what kills me. You should know me better than that. And I know that somewhere inside you, you do. Somewhere inside you, you think about how you can escape, how you can come back. You plot your way out and at times, you think it would be so easy to sneak back into your life with me. But because of him, you won't try anything. Because of him, you won't call me even though, if you're anything like me, you're tempted to every day. And I know you; you won't do anything to shake the foundation there. When he was gone, there was a different set of rules put into place. But now that he's back, you feel that you need to throw them away. That's not how he left it; he'll know what you were up to. All must be as it was. I can respect that. I can understand that.

But that in no way means that I have to like it.

I think about you now, and all I can do is wonder; you've left me to my thoughts and my imagination. Before Grace started coming home with her daily reports of your despair, I used to wonder what you were doing with him. If he realized what he had. If you were beginning to get used to the routine again. If you were slowly beginning to forget about us. If I didn't have the hold on you I thought I did. Now, I wonder when you'll start to crack under the pressure. I wonder if you think of me when you get lonely. I wonder…

"Will. Come on, where are you tonight?"

Grace has a concerned look on her face. Had I really zoned out for that long? I honestly don't remember arriving at this building, walking into the elevator. But the doors are open and revealing my apartment across the hall, and I wonder how long I've actually been standing here.

Sorry. Are you staying over at Leo's?

"Yeah. Are you going to be okay tonight?"

Don't worry about me. I'll be fine, Grace.

"I know, I just…I don't want you to be sad. I don't want you to be alone when you need someone. I can stay here, it's not a problem."

Go. Have a good night.

She kisses me on the cheek before the elevator doors close and she's sent into the arms of her lover. I could have used her tonight; my mind is spinning with thoughts of you, and I know that I won't be able to stop it on my own. But she deserves to be with him. One of us should be happy tonight.

I unlock the front door and hold the key in my hand for a moment. You never gave your key back. For all I know, you could have lost it in moving and unpacking, forgot about it completely by now. But I like to think that you still keep it with you. I like to think that you slip it through your fingers and know that you could use it to unlock your soul from the chamber you were forced to throw it in. I just think you need a little push. Something to make you open your eyes and realize what you need to do.

What I don't know is when that something will actually come along.

The bedroom door is open; I can't go inside just yet. I don't want to go to bed with thoughts of you leaving me in my head. If I'm going to think of you, I want to think of you in my arms, of your kiss caressing my skin, of your giggle, of your beauty hovering above me as I wake up in the morning. I try to take comfort in the fact that I once had you, that I could at one time call you my lover. But that doesn't erase the fact that you should be here with me now, that I want you here with me now.

I start making my way towards the bedroom to change. Your image still controls the better part of my mind; that's how it's always been, but not that you're gone, your image won't leave me alone, and I don't know if I want it to. If I can't fall asleep with you beside me, then I'll have to fall asleep with the thought of you.

It's not the best-case scenario.

But at this point, I'll take what I can get.


	16. Waiting

October 31st 2002, 9:15 PM

Her name is Lorraine. She works in the cafeteria of the prison. Somehow they were able to get past everything they needed to in order to be together. It began once Karen stopped visiting Stan, and he became increasingly lonely (damn him; even when she had no part in controlling his actions, he always seemed to find a way to bring it back to her). And when he was released, he swore to himself that that would be the end of it. But one look at the sadness in Lorraine's face before he left, and he knew that he hadn't seen the last of her. And no, he didn't grant Karen permission to sleep with other people because of this. This happened a few weeks after, once he came to the conclusion that he wasn't going to see her for a long time—knowing Karen and her stubbornness, the rest of his duration in prison.

Change a few pronouns, take away the touch of Karen's own inflections and personal thoughts from the mix, and you've got Stan's speech verbatim. Some things just stick in your mind. Like the image of Stan taking this woman into his arms. Like the image of the two of them making love in the bed she was beginning to once again call her own. Like the look in his eyes as he closed the bedroom door, shielding his indiscretion from her, as he tried to explain himself. He didn't seem sorry for what he did, only sorry for being caught. And that's when Karen realized why she was really upset.

It wasn't because he had someone on the side. It was because she left Will to rebuild whatever small semblance of a family they had, when she could have been at home all this time.

She had come to Jack after Stan talked to her, took a seat outside his door and told him everything. And when she let those three words spill from her lips—"I left him"—it became real. Karen could feel it in her core, that sting that let her know that she screwed up. That night, when she had to come back to Will's to pack, she thought for a moment of just staying there. She thought for a moment that she didn't necessarily have to go back to Stan that night, or the next. She already had everything she needed; she could have cared less about the belongings that she left back at Stan's. But she couldn't break a promise, even if it was to someone she no longer cared for.

"Well, where are you going to stay?" she heard Jack say. She turned her head towards him and wondered if he caught on to the fact that she had been staring at 9C's door. He was probably in there, entranced in the glow of the television or with his nose in between the pages of a book. No, he was probably out, enjoying life, moving on while she seemed stuck in the memories. Jack knew about their affair. And to Karen's surprise, he wasn't against it. He had seen how unhappy she had become from years of playing Mrs. Walker, and while it was a strange concept for him, he took comfort in the fact that Will could make Karen smile in a way Stan never could. That was all Jack ever wanted for her.

"Don't worry about me, honey. I'll figure it out soon enough." There she was, staring at the door again.

"You can stay here if you want to. I know it's a small apartment, but you can take my bed and I can sleep on the couch or something."

Karen gave him a half-smile and took a hold of his hand. "I don't want you to have to do that, Jackie. I don't want to be an inconvenience. I'll be fine, I promise you." God, that word again. She had to learn to quit throwing promises around like they were worthless. "I'll make some calls, find a hotel with a free room. It's going to be okay."

She moved her leg and kicked her suitcase slightly. Karen never unpacked it when she got back to Stan's. She couldn't bear to; all of those things now had connections to Will, and if she was going to make her transition back to routine as painless as possible, she wasn't about to unlock everything that would remind her of what could have been. And because of that, it was so much easier to leave. When she couldn't face Stan anymore, she went into her closet, grabbed the handle of the suitcase and took off.

If she knew it would be that easy, she would have done it a long time ago.

"Does he know?" Damn, was she staring again? Was it that obvious what she wanted to do? It was easy to make the connection; Karen brought the suitcase with her to this building, one she had inhabited for eleven months. She went to Jack for support and comfort, a man who lives across the hall from the place she had called home. She had the key to 9C in her pocket. But she figured she couldn't just walk back in there like there wasn't a gap in time.

She already took a risk the first night she kissed him, though. What's one more risk?

"No. There wasn't really any time for me to tell anyone other than you. Anyway, I haven't talked to him since I left. I don't know if he would want to speak to me after the way I left things. I messed everything up. I might as well suffer the consequences."

"Don't look at it like that. I can guarantee you that he wants to see you again. He never got over you; I've never seen him like that before. Don't make yourself suffer when you don't have to."

"Is he home?"

"He went off with Grace and Leo to the Catskills. I don't think he wanted to go, but Grace dragged him along to try to get his mind off of things. They should be home sometime tonight, though. Kare, you know I love you, and I love Will, and I just want to see you both happy. I know you still have that key in your pocket. And I know you are dying to use it. Clear your mind from whatever it is that's holding you back."

Karen always knew Jack to be off the wall, jumping from one thing to another without a care. But in the instances he saw something to be incredibly serious, he could be the wisest and most helpful person to you. It was a rarity, but Karen had seen this side of him a handful of times, and found a great beauty in it. They stood up and he took her into his arms. "Are you sure you're going to be okay?" he asked. She nodded into his chest before he let her go and went back into his apartment.

Karen grabbed her suitcase while she fished through her pocket until she had the key in her palm. Slipped it in between her fingers. It could be so simple. And if he really wasn't home, it would give her time to at least prepare something to say to him. With a little force to slide the key into the lock and a turn of her wrist, she let herself into the apartment and found it dark, a blue dark she only saw here. It always amazed her, as if total darkness didn't exist in any shape or form in this space.

Everything looked exactly how it did the last night she was here. The couch. The place it started. The place it ended. The loveseat by the television where they curled up against one another and talked for hours. Pictures and pillows in the same places. She looked down the hallway and saw the door to his bedroom open.

God, it looked so bare.

She didn't realize how much space her things took up. Maybe that wasn't it. Maybe it was the fact that she was so used to this being her room too, the fact that it had been over a year since she saw this room as just his own. Karen dropped her suitcase by the door and walked over to the bed. She wanted so much to crawl under the covers and claim her place inside. But she couldn't do it; she hadn't been a part of this room, of this apartment, of this life, for a month now, and it didn't seem right for her to assume that things could go back to the way they were.

Karen knelt down and spread her arms along the top of the bed, rested her cheek on the fabric of the comforter. She would wait for him; she didn't care how long it would take. She didn't expect him to take her back, to say that everything is forgotten and they could move forward. But that didn't mean she couldn't try to explain herself. She would listen for the door, his footsteps. She would look for his eyes. She would hope for his forgiveness.

She wouldn't move from this spot. There was nothing stopping her.

Besides, she had nowhere else to go.


	17. Dreamlike

October 31st 2002, 11:40 PM

It had to be a dream. That was the only explanation.

Her fingers entwined with each other as she lay her arms straight out in front of her on the bed, before bringing her clasped hands to her forehead. Almost as if in prayer. Out of all the ways he had imagined this moment, this was how he pictured her most often. That's how he knew it had to be a dream, the nightly one that accompanied him to bed and tried to lull him into a peaceful sleep.

Until she spoke. Then he began to realize that this was real.

"I left Stan," she said with a sigh. Her eyes were closed, just like her last night when she told him that Stan had come home. He waited for an explanation. Something that told him why she chose tonight, why she chose now. But Karen fell silent, and Will realized that he didn't need one. She was here, by his bed, and it was real. That was enough for him.

He fished for words. Whatever was the right response for something like this. He hadn't seen her in so long; a lot can change in a month. Will didn't think that the love she gave him could be so quickly forgotten. Then again, he didn't think that he would have to once again spend his nights without her, and he was wrong about that. In a month's time, she could have rediscovered what she saw in Stan when she was truly devoted to him. They could have rekindled whatever flame kept them alive for so long. She could be hurting more than he thought she was.

"I'm sorry" was all he could come up with. Seemed pretty neutral, but sincere at the same time.

"Don't be."

She turned her head to face him. Oh, those eyes. Once filled with so much light, now darkened with sadness and…was that regret? "It was only a matter of time," she said softly. "I was only fooling myself into thinking I could pull it off. And it wasn't even because of what he did." What did he do, Karen? Give me a clue, let me know how he wronged you so I can promise you I won't do it too, he thought. "I just never realized that he didn't care anymore. If I would have known that, I would have stayed here." Karen looked back at the bed, the sheets, the mattress that was giving where the weight of her elbows made it impossible to stay firm.

Silence. Oh, god. He didn't care anymore. That had to be it. She waited to long to break away from Stan, and now that she finally has, it doesn't matter. At least not to him. Images of a broken Will from that last night started playing in her mind. This is why he will never forgive you, Karen. This is why he will never want you back. This is why you will spend tonight alone. This is why you aren't able to see another night in someone's arms in the near future.

But then she felt his hands gracing her shoulders, coming up from behind. Karen closed her eyes for a moment to take it all in. She missed his touch, the chill she got every time he brushed up against her body. And then his voice. The delicacy of his syllables curling around her ear to give her the warm sound she longed for all this time.

"Where are you going to go?"

Karen shook her head. "I don't know yet." That was it. That would have been the chance for her to run back into the life she desired, and he hadn't given it to her. He could have told her she was home. She could have smiled and told him she loved him. They could have crawled into bed and fell asleep in each other's arms. And in the morning, she could have felt the presence of him beside her to let her know that this was, in fact, real, that she didn't dream it.

But instead of "You are home," instead of "You are where you need to be," instead of the countless other things she wanted to hear Will say to her at that moment, she got "Where are you going to go?" Did she really expect him to open his home to her once again? She didn't have a great track record; Karen had already run away once. And she didn't blame him if he thought she would do it again. It didn't look so good for her.

Try to make it look like you have some sort of plan, Karen. Don't make him think you were banking on his open arms. "I'm probably just going to make a few calls and see if any hotels have a vacant room. Jack offered me his apartment, but I couldn't do that to him, invading his space like that. I'll figure it out soon enough."

"Oh…"

Was that disappointment? He sounded like he wanted to say something else. He took a breath and continued.

"Because I thought that maybe you could stay here."

Karen stood up and turned to face him. "For how long?"

"As long as you want me."

She couldn't help it; the smile grew wider across her face before she wrapped her arms around him. If she knew it would be this easy to fall back into his embrace, she would have come running back as soon as she could. She didn't want him to let her go, and she knew he wouldn't. It was a jump, but she figured she would take the risk; Karen moved her lips towards his ear and whispered to him. "I love you so much."

And she knew she was home when he whispered back. "I love you, too."

* * *

Never did I think that I would once again feel your bare skin against mine. You've fallen asleep in my arms, your head resting on my chest, and I take comfort in your breathing evening out, your fingers sprawling out against my stomach as your grip starts to weaken from sleep. And even though I want to slip into slumber with you, I can't sleep; I don't want to miss a moment with you.

Somehow I don't think I ever will.

For a month, I have tried to take comfort in my dreams. In the nights when I would picture you in my mind, standing by the bed, kneeling by it, waiting for me to come in and hear that you love me. It was all I had of you, and I didn't think I would see you again. But you were here during the night I thought about you the most. Almost as if I willed you to be here when I got home. I'm not stupid; I know you're not a mind reader, and you had no idea if I still thought of you in the same way. But you came back.

That's all that matters.

I don't know what will happen when Grace walks through the door tomorrow morning. I don't know how she will react. I don't know if she'll notice right away and I don't know if she'll even acknowledge it. I don't know why you chose to come back tonight. I don't know what Stan did to you to make you leave, although I can probably guess. I don't know if he'll look for you here, and I don't know if he'll try to win you back.

But I do know that you're here with me. I know that you still smell of gardenias even with the events of the day on you. I know that you sigh in your sleep at times—not a sad or angered sigh, but more of a satisfied one. I know that if I kiss the crown of your head you will automatically smile even if you're unaware of it. I know that I'll find you next to me in the morning.

I know that you're home. I know that you'll stay.

And that's all I need.


End file.
